


Sweat + Buckles = Friends?

by Ghuleh (InsertQuirkyUsername)



Category: Rammstein
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Humour, M/M, Occasionally Dialogue Heavy, Slow Build to Romance, Till/Original Male Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-28
Updated: 2017-01-26
Packaged: 2018-07-18 21:16:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7330948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsertQuirkyUsername/pseuds/Ghuleh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who would have thought the mere matter of how to get a sweaty German out of some stage clothes would result in not just a job but a friendship too?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

> So while watching the Download pro-shot footage of Mein Herz Brennt, my gran commented on how sweaty Till was and that, given the type of material his stage clothes were made of, he'd probably have to be cut out of it after the show. Thus an utterly ridiculous plot bunny was born.  
> Please enjoy!

Watching from the side of the stage, I was anticipating the job at the end of the night. The boys were only two songs in but already Till was drenched in sweat and from where I stood rivers of it were visibly making their way down his face and neck… Other places too, no doubt. 

For reasons that I had yet to figure out, Till never liked to towel off the excess sweat at points during the show. Maybe because he knew it was a pointless effort or perhaps he just enjoyed being sweaty? Though it had come to my attention during the last couple times that Till just didn’t seem to notice how much he had been sweating. 

 

_ **\---** _

 

_ Okay so maybe context is necessary right around now. During the touring cycle for Liebe Ist Für Alle Da, there was a lot of staff involved in making sure that shows went off without any hitches, or at least as few as physically possible. At that time I was just a wee baby intern who had no fucking clue how crazy these guys could be. I had only been hired when they came to London, so I hadn’t been there long and having never been a crew member for a band I was very anxious.  
_

_ My mum’s high school sweetheart got me the job and I really wasn’t all that keen to begin with but the job became my only option when the shop I was working in at the time began closing down. To this day I actually don’t understand why said sweetheart did that for me, probably trying to get back into my mum’s pants… Anyway, that disturbing thought aside, I had been kept pretty busy doing jobs that had me wanting to go home and work in an office, they were that boring. So in doing all these monotonous and very drive-me-to-murder kind of jobs, I was still clueless to whom I was even on tour with. Laterally, I figured out why certain band members had treated me differently when I first started, being such a small and clueless baby, I had brushed past them thinking they were just crew like me. Apparently that had been ‘refreshing’. _

_ Anyway, I drift further and further from the direction of my narrative. So this one night, prior to a show in Russia, members of the wardrobe staff are helping Till into his stage gear. I mean have you seen that shit? With all the buckles and zips and leather? So little me is wandering on by his dressing room whilst dragging a trolley of speakers behind me and all I hear is muffled German that I can’t understand, having chosen to study French and Spanish instead. _

_ That was the first time I remember really thinking, I needed to work out who it is I’m working for. At the same time, I remember being a little scared about asking too many questions about the band. No one really spoke about them outside of their professional capacity. _

_ That was also the first night I got told to take the rest of the night off. So, my curiosity having been officially piqued, I decided to go stage-side and observe the show. As I stood waiting stage side, someone came up to me and said that if I planned on staying there to watch the show, I would be in need of some ear plugs. I graciously accepted the ear plugs I was given and settled in for what would turn out to be the one and only spectacle I ever found myself in absolute awe of. _

_ So like I mentioned before, from where I stood I could see the sheer amount of sweat coming from Till (who at this point I knew only as, the singer.)  I didn’t understand a word of what I was hearing due to the whole not speaking German thing but I couldn’t deny that I was absolutely loving what I was seeing. The pyrotechnics just made all the oxygen in the air evaporate, the monotonous pounding feel of the music made the beat easy to keep in time with and I was finding myself laughing at the antics of the band, the facial expressions that the singer continued to make crack me up the most. _

_ By the time the show came to an end, I was in love. My love was probably cemented in the respect and seemingly genuine love they had for the fans that stood before them, as demonstrated in their simple action of bowing at the end. After the second encore, it was time to get myself back to work. I might have been told to take the evening off but I wasn’t about to just laze around when there was so much to be getting on with. In an effort to keep myself busy I went back towards the arena’s back door to help load trucks. That was when I heard someone yelling. Now I said I don’t speak German, but some things are evident whatever language they are spoken in. Whoever was yelling was very pissed off. On instinct I poked my head into the room to check if there was anything I could do to help.  _

_ I was suddenly faced with two very scared looking wardrobe assistants and one very angry looking man, instantly recognisable as the man that had been on stage barely half an hour ago.  _

 

_ “Is everything okay?” I asked one of the assistants.  _

 

_ “No, someone put the buckles on too tight and we can’t unfasten them. As if that wasn’t bad enough, the leather is sticking to his skin because of the sweat.” _

 

_ “Here, lemme take a look.” I said and approached the towering behemoth. Looking up, I asked, “Can you speak anything other than German?” _

 

_ “English.”  _

 

_ “Well that makes this less of a tricky task then.” I was scanning the buckles and straps. “It’s probably not those that are going to be the real problem. You might find the sweat will be the biggest bitch here.” _

 

_ I don’t know where my courage came from but there it was, by this time the two wardrobe assistants had scarpered.  _

 

_ “Hmm.” I started to mumble to myself as I fiddled with the straps. “You got a pen or something kicking around in here? If I can jimmy something between the two parts of the strap we could be in the money.”  _

 

_ As if from nowhere, suddenly I had a very ordinary biro in my hand. I don’t know why I was so surprised by the plainness of the pen but I had to stifle a giggle. It wasn’t long before I had the buckles off and handed him back the pen, triumphantly.  _

 

_ “Now all you gotta deal with is the sweat, which by now has probably dried in and is all icky so I’ll leave you to handle that part on your own.” I smiled.  _

 

_ Remember when I said I had mistook one of the band for crew? Till was the one I had mistaken for crew and it seemed he recognised me. _

 

_ “You didn’t know who we were before tonight, did you?” He said, accent thick and heavy in his voice.  _

 

_ “Still not really sure who you guys are even now.”  _

 

_ “Till Lindemann.” He introduced himself with a small smile, the sort I would come to cherish because they were rare. “You crashed into me the other day and just apologised before going back about your duties.” _

 

_ “Well, uh. Yeah I kinda thought you were just another part of the crew and I was way behind on what I was doing so I was concentrating more on not getting yelled at by my boss.”  _

 

_ “Most people would have been much more apologetic, it was nice to be invisible for once.”  _

 

_ I was unsure what to say to that. “Want me to apologise some more or am I forgiven? I did just free you from the dastardly grip of those evil buckles and shit, so I reckon I’m owed brownie points there.”  _

_ He seemed to appreciate the way I treated him like just another person. Even now, I think that is probably why he took to me so quickly.  _

 

_ “Good show, by the way and it was lovely to meet you but I had better go back and help the others pack up what’s left to go in the trucks.” _

 

_ He nodded and then I left, maybe I should have been more perplexed or excited by what had just happened but I felt as if it was just a part of the job.  
_ _  Little did I know that night on my hotel bed, video calling with my mum, that that would become not just a part of the job but pretty much my whole job. _

_ Time and again after that evening he seemed to find reason to need my help after a show. I still don’t know how he found out my name. As time went on I was needed not just after shows, but before them too. I suppose I became like a Personal Assistant to Till, but it was more than that, we were friends by the end of that tour.  _

_ So, given I mention the end of that tour cycle, it was hard for me because I had befriended such a great guy and I was under the impression that this was the end of the story, that the credits were rolling up and everyone one was leaving. I had been working with Rammstein for just over a year at that point but instead of being out of a job I was told there would be a new tour starting that November and that I would be needed again. _ _   
_ _ Three of the four months between tours I spent with my mum back in London but in the month leading up to the kick off date I was back with the men I considered extended family. _

_ The Made In Germany 1995-2011 Tour spanned only nine months but it seemed that the tours just kept happening and they didn’t seem to stop for years. Of course the band finally decided to call it quits for a while in 2013. _

_ After that tour it was hard for me to adjust back into my old life. No job could keep me occupied and so I left more often than not within a few months. I knew it drove my mum crazy but I think she also understood what I was feeling and she tried to sympathise, it was difficult though. _

_ In the early months of 2014 I moved from one part of London to another in the hopes of finding something to keep my interest. At the same time my mobile number changed and my mum changed the landline number. It took me a while to come to terms with the realisation that this meant I would probably never work for Rammstein again since they had no way to get in touch with me and they weren’t likely to scour the planet for one measly PA were they? It took me longer to come to terms with the fact that the band had probably forgotten about me and that I would be best to do the same. _

_ Then, in late 2015, a miracle happened, one I never thought would. I got a phone call, I was actually in a job interview when the call came through and I apologised but, recognising the number as my mum’s landline I thought something might be wrong. _

_ The interviewer excused himself so that I could talk privately with my mum. _

 

_ “Mum? Is everything okay?” I asked. _

 

_ “What? Of course it is-” Realisation seemed to dawn on her, “You’re at that interview, oh my gosh, I’m so sorry but I thought you’d wanna know.” _

 

_ Infuriated that she had stopped I sighed, “Know what, Mum?”  _

 

_ “You’ve got a job offer I reckon you’ll be happy to take.” _

 

_ “Mum?” I thought for a split second, nay I dared to hope, that maybe I was going back on tour. _

 

_ “Their manager called, he asked for you personally. Course, they didn’t have your number so they had to reach out to Stuart again and he gave them the house number to tell you that the job is yours if you want it and that Till looks forward to seeing you again.” _

 

_ While my mum had been talking, I was trying to regulate my breathing. It had been two very long and incredibly boring years in the span of which I, in all honesty, suspected that Till would have forgotten I even existed, but he had not. _

 

**\---**

 

So that brings us back around to the here and now. On to the final song of the night, no encores this time due to time restrictions, and the Pyro effects were at their most elaborate and intense.

Tonight would be a night no different than any other I had become accustomed to on this tour but that didn’t mean I would take it for granted, I had learned the hard way last time that this was not forever. 

Till sang the last notes of Halleluja and they all took their bows, thanking the crowd as was customary and leaving the stage, I was elated. I had been cheering just as much as the crowd and as he and the rest of the band approached the side of the the stage I had been watching from, I clapped and smiled. When Till was close enough I leapt up and hugged him around the neck, he hugged me back with his arms easily encompassing my waist.

 

“As ever, it was a helluva show you put on my friend!” I told him. 

 

“Till, put down your PA before people get ideas about the nature of the relationship you share.” Flake smirked. 

 

“Yeah Till, put the poor kid down.” Paul snickered. 

 

“Hey now guys, c’mon, I started it!” I laughed, defending Till, alas I was put down and we started the slow walk back to dressing rooms. 

  
Yep, I had been landed with the most extra-ordinary job and I wouldn’t be giving it up any time soon!

 


	2. Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there wasn't actually supposed to be a part two for this but I went to write something else entirely, then this came out instead. When I started to write it I had an idea of where I wanted to take it but then it took on a life of it's own and I ended up with a very different ending... I'm not sure I'm happy with it?  
> Let me know what you think cause I'm looking to maybe write more of this and a little input on how the relationship with Till and his PA is developing would be greatly appreciated.

Fast forward a couple of nights and it’s the end of yet another successful show. Walking back through the backstage area with the boys I am barely listening to the chatter. I’m too busy thinking, it’s weird how quickly I got used to being Rammstein’s PA again. Most of the time I work with Till because that’s how my contract works but I’m always happy to help the other guys out too, there’s a sense of family to it. Oli once told me that he never thought he would see the day when a member of crew would ride in the same bus as them, he always thought it would throw off the energy of the group but he was happy I fit in so well.

My musings are interrupted by the sound of Paul who is arguing with Till, “You practically stood in front of the damn thing Till! Look at you, you’re a brighter shade of red than a lobster!”

Looking at him now, I could see Paul was right, Till was burnt to hell. When had that happened?

 

“It’s not that bad, there have been worse instances.” Till shrugged, but I saw how that small action hurt him. 

 

“Not that bad? I could hear you screaming over everything else!” Paul said, clearly frustrated.

 

“Paul.” I said gently, “Getting frustrated won’t help.”   
 A part of me was horrified, how in the name of hell had I missed the sound of Till screaming in pain? Worse still, why had I not noticed the state he was in immediately as he came off the stage?

The other four had been quiet, something I learned early on was that when Paul took Till to task on something the others would leave him to it. Usually Paul was very justified in whatever he was saying and tonight was no different but getting worked up over it would not be beneficial for anyone. 

Paul was looking at me with a pleading in his eyes, I knew what he was trying to ask. 

 

“I’ll fix this, promise.”

 

As we went our separate ways, I walked with Till to his dressing room. The second we were in I went into the old days mode, when I was there to help him out of sweat drenched clothing.

This time was different though, it was important to be gentle. “Till, this is probably going to hurt a little, possibly a lot.”

He just shrugged, seemingly indifferent. I had never known him to be like this after a show and I was concerned but I kept it to myself for the time being.  
 I concentrated on getting him out of the stage clothes and carefully towelling off the sweat, the towels stained with the makeup that had been used on his arms. I used the wipes I carried with me to get rid of the makeup that had ran and stained his face, being careful not to snag his piercings.

Once I had cleaned him up a little, I gently took his wrist and inspected his arms. Nothing to write home about really, it looked more like sunburn than first or second degree burns which was always a plus. I did notice the slight bumps I had learnt to recognise as blisters and with the sheer heat coming from him, I suspected we’d be seeing a substantial case of heat rash too.

All the while he just stood there, silent. Usually I at least got some banter or even a rant about someone being incapable of doing their job, but only if something went wrong during the show. Nothing. Not a single word.

I opened my mouth to speak but I couldn’t force anything out, it wouldn’t have mattered anyway. He was staring, blankly, straight ahead if him, like he had a tendency to do onstage when he was not required to sing or do anything. 

I moved away to the wardrobe to grab him some clothes. There was a white dress shirt hanging up and a pair of jeans but I reached for the shorts that were hanging up behind them. The last thing he needed to be wearing right now was anything tight or form-fitting. I laid the shorts on the chair in front of the mirror then unbuttoned the white shirt and took a few steps towards him. When it became clear he wasn’t going to take it from me and put it on himself, I went around the back of him and slid his arms into the sleeves. When I went back around the front to fasten the buttons he looked down at me and smiled a little, not like the ones I had come to know and love. This one seemed to be saying something he couldn’t quite give voice to yet. I knew that, given time, he would be ready to talk to me, it was important not to push him.

I moved back to the chair where I had laid the shorts and handed them to him, allowing him to lean on me while he put them on. Then for sandals, it was a warm night outside and besides we were already late so no time to be fiddling with laces. The bus would be wanting to get back to the hotel and the arena staff were most likely anxiously waiting for the place to be empty so they could get to work cleaning it ready for whomever took stage the next night. 

I didn’t even need to say anything, I merely offered him my arm to hold. This had become tradition after he had nearly collapsed due to heat exhaustion. I knew I wouldn’t provide any kind of counter weight and that if he should fall on me then I was done for but it was a show of support and comfort that he seemed to appreciate. 

We made our way to the arena’s artist entrance, when Oli stood up from the amp he had been sat on. “Hey, paparazzi and reporters are out there in their dozens. Thought you two ought to have fair warning.” He said and walked towards the door.  
 Till looked to me and without thinking I handed him a pair of sunglasses.

We left the arena single file with Ollie leading the charge so as to get the brunt of the paparazzi’s intruding camera flashes. I absentmindedly wondered where our security guys had gotten to. 

 

“Till, what’s the relationship with you and the PA? Looks a little on the young side!” Someone called.

 

My head shot up in time to see muscles flex and fists ball in anger.  
 “Not worth it Till, keep walking.” I urged.

I was furious myself with what had been assumed, of course it had happened before but this time it had been so blatantly derogatory that I was a little shell shocked. I also felt pretty indignant since I was in my early thirties. I remembered to breath and tell myself that they were only saying that to provoke a reaction.  
 By the time we were back on the bus, Till stormed off to his bunk and drew the little curtain.

My shoulders sagged and I sat on the couch next to Paul.

 

“He needs space before I do anything Paul, I can’t push him to talk to me. That fixes nothing.” 

 

“It’s okay, I maybe shouldn’t have went off on one at him.” 

 

“I don’t think it would have mattered either way, something has been up with him for a few weeks now but I don’t know what. Tonight somehow must have been the straw that broke the camel’s back.” 

 

“I don’t think that reporter helped any either.” Oli said, handing me a cup of hot chocolate.

 

“Thanks.” I said, “No. I’m just glad he didn’t rise to the bait.”

 

“What happened?” Schneider asked.

 

“A reporter insinuated that Till was engaging in inappropriate and possibly underage relations with me.” I said. 

 

“You two can seem a little closer than natural for a man and his PA sometimes.” Flake said, trying to lend reason to why that might have been said.

 

“That doesn’t give any reporter the right to pass comment in that way though.” Schneider replied.

 

“People will think what they like, despite any evidence to the contrary.” Richard added.

 

After that a solemn silence fell over us all, in equal parts from the exhaustion taking its toll and from the worry that there may very well be something eating away at our friend that he refuses to talk about. 

 

**\---**

 

When the bus stopped outside the hotel Till reemerged and walked with the rest of us through the hotel reception and up in the lift to their respective floors and rooms. I had my own room but I wanted to make sure Till was going to look after himself properly. 

It wasn’t until we were over the threshold that Till noticed I had followed him. He closed the door and went to sit on the bed.

 

I took the seat across from him in an armchair. “You gonna talk to me or do you want me to leave you alone for now?”

 

When he looked up at me I knew he wasn’t ready to talk but neither was he ready to be alone. 

 

“Can I see how your arms are doing?” I asked him.

 

He nodded curtly and unbuttoned his shirt, when I saw his arms I wasn’t overly concerned but I knew we had to get them treated so that nothing untoward would happen in the next couple of days. 

 

“I’m going to go let the shower run, we’ll get you under some lukewarm water to clean you off and so as not to irritate those burns.” I moved off to set the shower to run cool. When I came back his shoulders were hunched and he was hissing in vague distress. “Till? Sweetie, where does it hurt?”

 

“So hot, my arms hurt.”

 

“Course they do love, you were burnt by the pyro remember?”

 

“Hm, so I was.” He whispered the next part, “I’m sorry.”

 

“Sorry? Why do you say that?” 

 

“I’ve worried you tonight.”

 

“Yes, you have but I trust you have your reasons for doing so. I would never push you into talking to me, you know that and you should know you don’t have to apologise either.” I consoled him.

 

He didn’t reply so I took one of his hands in mine and guided him to the bathroom. “Need a hand or can you undress yourself?” 

 

I suppose it seems odd to outsiders to see two people so close yet not be in any kind of intimate relationship. To put it simply, it was trust. We trusted each other. He trusted me because he knew I cared about him and as such was only ever concerned with his welfare, safety, health and happiness. I trusted him because he was the closest friend I had. Mad as that sounds, I was closer to him than I was most of my high school friends whom by now I had known for nigh on fifteen years.

 

When he signalled that he would be fine to undress himself, I stepped back. “Till, please don’t turn the temperature of the shower up and remember to use the unscented soap. I’ll get you a towel and leave you to it.”

 

True to my word, I let him shower in peace. I set up the calamine lotion and even got some bandages for the worse areas of his arms, just so as to protect against any chance of the blisters bursting. 

I knew he would probably take a while and just stand under the cool water so I took that opportunity to call my mum.

 

After three or four rings, the line clicked and she had picked up. “Hey mum.”

 

“Hi darling, how’re ya doing?” She sounded sleepy.

 

“I’m okay, did I get timezones wrong again?” That was something I never got the hang of.

 

“Yeah but it’s okay. I figured it would be you.”

 

“Sorry, what time is it for you?” 

 

“It’s about half four in the morning.” She yawned.

 

“Sorry.” I said again.

 

“It’s okay. Is everything alright?”

 

“Hmm? Oh yeah, just usual business y’know. Till got himself a little burnt so I’m just making sure he’s okay before I go off to bed.”

 

“Tell him I said he ought to be more careful.”

 

“I don’t think he would really appreciate that right now.” I said and there was a beat of silence before my mum spoke again.

 

“There’s something else, isn’t there? Something on your mind.” She said, she always knew. Always could tell.

 

“It’s silly really. Just something a reporter said that got to me I guess.”

 

“What did they say?”

 

I was just about to open up to her when I heard the shower turn off and I knew I would have to cut the call short. “I’ll tell you later, Till’s just about to come out of the shower so I’m gonna bandage him up and make sure he’s okay. Go back to bed and I’ll try and call you at a more reasonable hour.” 

 

Last thing I heard was her chuckle and tell me she loved me, then the line went dead. 

 

Till was stood by the bathroom door with the towel around his waist and his hair dripping onto the carpet. “You didn’t have to hang up on my account.” He said.

 

“It’s about four in the morning at home, I’m no good at this timezones lark. Anyway, you’re a priority right now. You want to make yourself halfway decent and I’ll treat those burns?” It was very much a rhetorical question. I turned away both to afford him some privacy and so that I could draw the curtains.

 

When he had pulled on a set of pyjama bottoms I gestured to the edge of the bed I wanted him to sit at and sat opposite him, cross legged and took one of his arms in my hand. I started to gently rub in the calamine lotion and whisper reassurance whenever I heard him hiss or gasp either in pain or because of the cold sensation of the lotion on heated skin. After both arms had been treated I went to wash my hands so that I could apply the bandages.

It took maybe no more than fifteen minutes in all but it felt like an eternity. When it was finally done and I looked up at him, I saw tears had begun to fall from his eyes.

 

“Till, hey, what’s wrong?” I asked him.

 

They were silent tears that fell freely, the sort you cry when you just can’t hold back the pain anymore. 

 

“I’ve been so selfish and asked so much of you, nein, expected it really. When we decided to tour again I insisted on calling you to have you back here helping like before and the others all said the same, that you had probably forgotten all about us and that we should leave you be, let you live the life you had doubtlessly made for yourself in the years since you last saw us.  Still, I pushed and pushed and when we finally got in touch with you I was so happy that I didn’t really even think about what, or who, I was asking you to leave behind. Now you’ve got to put up with reporters making horrible remarks and my tantrums and inability to look after myself. You clean up all the messes I leave behind and never even complain. I, we, but mainly I, put you through so much and don’t even stop sometimes to think about what you might be feeling. I’m such a thoughtless asshole and I’m so sorry.” He explained, never once letting the tears that fell interfere with what he needed to say. 

 

I was on the verge of tears myself and could only move that bit closer to wipe away fallen tears with a gentle thumb, all the while a constant stream of ‘Shh’ and ‘It’s okay’ passed my lips.

 

“My dearest friend, you mustn’t beat yourself up so. You are not a selfish man, on the contrary, you are one of the most selfless people I have the honour to know. Please never think that you have asked too much of, nor placed any unreasonable expectations on, me. You six men were all I thought about in those years, I was so bored all the time and no job seemed worth my time after I got home. I hated the jobs that came after and I think the longest I held one down was six months. When I got that call from my mum that you guys wanted me to come back to my old position, I was elated and my mum understood why I had to drop everything and come back. It’s not as if I had any kind of partner to whom I had to explain my sudden and imminent departure.    
All you asked of me was that I come back and do the job you had all come to trust me in, to me I was returning to a second family. You have absolutely nothing to apologise for Till Lindemann.”

 

As if to drive home my sincerity, I pulled him into a tight hug, leaning my head in the crook of his neck and waited for him to acclimatise to the contact. Before long he was returning the hug and crying still, now though they were tears of joy and, I think in some ways, relief. Relief that I didn’t hold anything against him or feel like I had been pulled back into this only out of a sense of loyalty. 

 

“Get some sleep Till.” I said softly, pressing a chaste kiss to his forehead as I pulled away from the embrace. 

 

“Would you stay here with me, just for tonight?” He asked. 

 

I stopped, I hadn’t expected him to ask something like that. I had no idea what the intentions behind the request were. I knew they wouldn’t be to cause me any harm, but ours had always been nothing more than a close friendship and I was aware that this could be his way of asking for more than that. I also considered that he was perhaps just asking me to stay because he wanted to be comforted. I was conflicted.  
 My silence and inaction had lead Till to infer that he must have crossed a boundary of some sort because he scrambled to fix it.

 

“I- Nevermind, forget I said that. I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.”

 

“It’s alright Till.” I thought it over, I had no idea what this could mean but a part of me didn’t want to think anymore. “Let me go get my pyjamas and toothbrush.”

 

His eyes lit up and I nipped down the hall to my room to grab what I needed. 

 

When I returned and knocked lightly on Till’s door, he opened it and stepped aside to let me in. “You can get changed in the bathroom if you’d prefer.” 

 

I nodded, unsure of what to say. I was quick to get changed and brush my teeth. 

When I came out, I went to the cupboard I had found the towels in and pulled out a spare duvet. There was a couch lined up underneath the window and I made my way over to it to set up my bed for the night. 

There was a look of confusion in Till’s eyes when I next met them. He had wanted me to share the bed which he was now lay in. I was more sure now that this was more than just someone wanting the comfort of their friend.

 

“I can’t Till. You need to make sure your bandages stay in place.” It was a feeble excuse but he seemed to accept it.

 

If this were to become a common occurrence then perhaps I would one day get to the point wherein I could share his bed, but for now it was too much.

 

“I wondered if you would come back. I half expected to fall asleep and find a note the next morning on your door that you had gone home. That I had made things… difficult between us.”

 

I was saddened that he could think I would do that, but a small part of me understood why he might think that. 

 

“I was beginning to think that perhaps this was the wrong time to get back to touring. There hasn’t been a set we played yet where all went to plan.” 

 

“Festivals will be more prone to mistakes and delays. Think of all that must be organised and all the variable that they have to keep an eye on. It’s easy to lose track of one or two details in that. You are all doing brilliantly and the fans always have the best time. Even if they notice the technical issues, they don’t care. They trust you to put on a good show and love you enough to carry you all through.”  I said.

 

“I am sorry about what that reporter said tonight. It was out of line.”

 

“People will think what they like, despite any evidence to the contrary.” I said, quoting Richard verbatim then adding, “Besides, it doesn’t matter what they think. We know the truth.”

 

“So this doesn’t blur the lines between professionalism and… something else?” He asked, almost hopeful.

 

“I don’t know at this moment Till, I really don’t.” I said, honestly. “We can talk about it a little more later, but for now you need to sleep.”

 

He seemed to understand and smiled, “Gute Nacht.”

  
“Sleep well Till.” 


	3. Part III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So apparently this isn't content to remain just a wee drabble although I don't think I would have gotten this done without the help of the lovely Lindefann over on Tumblr.
> 
> Thank you to all who have left such kind comments on this, it is very much appreciated. However, I must apologise for what is to come, please don't hate me...
> 
> Uhm, enjoy?

So the first time around working with Rammstein there was a run of shows, I think they were on the ninth show in a row and tensions were running high. It was getting harder for the energy on stage to be pure, by about the fifth show even Paul found it difficult to be his usual cheerful, silly and cheeky self on stage. Arguments seemed to be the only way anyone conversed with each other at the time and it was usually sparked over silly little things. Maybe someone would leave a cup in the sink on the tour bus or they would be late to breakfast and then an argument began to brew.    
 Only once did an argument happen out in public. Richard had been making snippy comments for hours now and most of them had been directed at Paul, eventually Paul abandoned his strategy of peacefully ignoring Richard and threw a punch. Between Schneider and I we got it under control and tempers went back to just barely flying beneath boiling point.

Then one night, I think it was the seventh show in that nine-in-a-row stint, everything that could go wrong seemed to do just that. Microphones wouldn’t work, amps malfunctioned, even some pyro’s failed.    
 Now anyone who is anyone will tell you, Till does not like it when things go wrong. Not one little bit and usually he can handle it with minimal tantrums. Maybe he will throw things or go backstage and shout for a minute, occasionally he has been known to break things whilst in a fit of rage. This particular night I had sensed that much would be broken and many staff would be have to be let go of before Till felt better. 

At this stage, it still looked to be in with a chance of being an okay show. Why do I sound so optimistic? Well because I’ve seen shows go worse, maybe nothing works and it has to be cancelled or they go on angry at one and another for whatever reason and it affects their performance in subtle ways, ways that an audience may not see but will only serve to annoy each band mate further. Of course, someone pulling the strings of the universe must have saw my optimism and laughed because just as the intro to Du Hast began to play I got a bad feeling but I couldn’t think why.  
 The reason for that bad feeling soon became evident. The pyro effect that is supposed to happen, doesn’t. It continues to not happen, and Till is furious. The first pyro failure earlier in the show had been subtle and the audience would have no way of ever knowing that it failed. This one though, everyone in the crowd knew it had failed, they knew the song and the accompanying effects well enough.

Still though, they play the song, like the professionals they are. 

Till’s temper does not abate in the time between the failure and the final bows after the encore. Barely out of view of the crowd still cheering for them and he lets some of that rage boil over and he kicks a trolley containing wires and speakers with enough force to topple it and likely break the sensitive equipment that had been atop it. Times such as these, it is easier just to allow him his outbursts. He never takes it too far, but crew all go into hiding from him. His bandmates just head in a different direction from him, letting him blow off the steam.

 

A hand on my shoulder and I turn to see Schneider, “C’mon, let him be.” He told me. 

 

So I go with them, letting Till do whatever he needs to to let out his frustrations. I can hear him yelling and kicking things all the way back to Richard’s dressing room. It was one of those rare occasions where the band had no need to be immediately huddled out of the venue since they were in the same venue the next night. 

 

“I think that shambles of a show deserves a cigarette.” Richard grumbled.

 

“You can’t smoke in the venue Richard.” I reminded him. 

 

“Ah, christ. I bet it’s raining outside too and people are probably waiting around the stage door to try and get a photo or autograph. I can’t be arsed with it tonight, I’ll smoke later.”

 

“I’m gonna borrow your shower if that’s acceptable Reesh?” Oli asked. 

 

“Sure, just don’t take to long ja?” He replied, “I want one too before we have to go back to the bus.”

 

“I’ll get one at the hotel then.”

 

“Nein, go for it Oli.” 

 

“You sure?”

 

“Mhm.” 

 

It was possibly the first interaction in days that hadn’t resulted in arguments or fisticuffs. This was a step in the right direction. 

 

I took the seat opposite Richard who had started to remove his nail polish and I was chatting with Paul, who had been teaching me German recently but he would occasionally forget and throw in Russian words by accident. 

 

“How are the German lessons going?” Flake asked me.

 

“Good, I think. It would help if Paul didn’t keep mixing up German and Russian words in the lessons.” I laughed.

 

“How do you mix up German, your mother tongue, with Russian, the language that has an entirely different alphabet to German?” Flake asked, incredulous. 

 

“Hush Flake, at least I speak English well enough not to make people’s ears bleed!” Paul teased.

 

Seeing everyone actually get along was refreshing and I turned to Richard, in the hopes to get him involved in the discussion, when I noticed the state of his nails. 

 

“Holy shit Richard, what have you done to your nails?” 

 

“What do you mean?” He said.

 

“Just, uh, stay right there. Don’t do another thing to those nails. I’ll be right back!” 

 

I had intended to run to Till’s dressing room and grab my toiletries bag then head back to Richard’s dressing room but when I entered I saw Till sitting with his head in his hands and muttering. 

 

“Till?” 

 

He didn’t move.

 

“Till, are you okay?” Still nothing, “Can you hear me love?” 

 

“Go away.” He muttered.

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“Leave me alone.”

 

“Look, if what happened out there is still bothering you, it shouldn’t. You all did really well despite what happened.” I told him.

 

“Oh you really think so?” He said. His head was hung low and his shoulders tensed as his voice took on a much darker tone, an almost dangerous tone.

 

“I- Yeah, I do.” I was scared, this was nothing like the man I knew.

 

“So what were you doing through there with them? Talking about how much of a fuck up I am? How the show was a fucking mess?” His head shot up, his eyes were rabid, he shot to his feet and loomed over me. Not hard given my small height, “I thought you were on my side? You’re  _ my _ PA afterall!”

 

“Till, please calm down. I’m not taking sides, there are no sides to take.” I said my voice cracking and panic rising like bile. 

 

“No sides to take!” He roared, he wasn’t in control and the situation was getting more and more volatile by the second. “Why are you even here? You didn’t even know who we are, who I am!” 

 

“I don’t understand Till, why are you being like this?” 

 

He threw all his force into turning away from me, as a result he collided with the chair he had previously occupied and sent it flying. He stumbled a little from the force and I instinctively went to help him regain his balance.

 

“Don’t fucking touch me! I don’t need your help!” 

 

I recoiled at that, I felt like I had been burnt with the full force of a pyro effect or like I had been bitten by a poisonous snake. In that single moment he had tore my heart right out of my chest and he knew it.

 

“Not nice is it?” He spat, “Finding out that someone is nothing like you thought. I thought I could trust you but you’re nothing but a fraud. Just a poser, someone who will turn their back on you and talk about you behind your back just to look cool to whatever company they’re in.”

 

The room was full of knives and I was being stabbed and slashed by each and every single one of them, stuck to that spot with no option but allow them to inflict their death by a thousand cuts on me. Whatever space was left in between those knives was filled with tension and fire.    
 My eyes stung with the tears I couldn’t bear to let fall. If I let them fall then this was all real, he was really saying all of this but if they didn’t fall then this could all still just be a nightmare. 

Till’s chest was heaving and his eyes still had that savage fire in them, his mouth was moving but I had blocked him out. I physically couldn’t let myself hear any more or I would be broken and bruised forevermore. My last memories of a man I considered a friend could not be these ones, I had to get out before I could never forgive him for what he was doing to me.

 

“Till, you’re scaring me.” I whispered. “Please stop, please.”

 

“I’m scaring you? Good, remember that feeling next time you feel like betraying someone.” Then a sick smile curved his lips, “I wish I’d never met you, wouldn’t that have made my life easier!”

 

In that moment my feet managed to release themselves but it was too late, the thousandth cut had been made and it was without doubt the deepest. Metaphorically speaking I was lifelessly bleeding out onto the floor.  
 Outside of the metaphor I was running for the door, my tears falling freely now. I was out the dressing room in a second and my feet pounded against the floor of the long cold hallways of the venue. Muscle memory took me towards Richard’s dressing room but last minute I veered away and ran for the nearest door to the outside world. My beautiful little world had been shattered and I needed to get out into the cold night air.

 

**\---**

 

“You hear that?” Schneider asked the others.

 

“Hear what?” Paul asked in return, looking up from his card game with Flake.

 

Then Richard heard it, shouting. “It’s probably just Till cursing some tech or something.”

 

“But it’s coming from Till’s dressing room, isn’t that where-” Realisation dawned on the assembled band members and just as Schneider made to move from the seat he had been perched in, somebody ran past the door. 

 

There was a sudden silence from the other end of the corridor and a palpable fear among those in Richard’s room. 

 

“Shit.” Paul said.

 

“Fuck.” Richard said.

 

“Oh Gott.” Oli added.

 

Flake and Schneider shared a look and the latter visibly paled.

 

“Someone needs to go to them.” Oli said, voice full of concern.

 

“If what we think just happened, did in fact happen. If Carter witnessed what we all suspect he witnessed, then we must give him space. This will be too much for him to process right now, you know how he feels about Till. This will have shattered everything he knew about him, anyone else in his company right now would very likely be detrimental.” Flake said, voicing the unfortunate truth of the matter.

 

“Well if we aren’t going to support Carter, then we have to go to Till! We need to knock some sense into that asshole!” Richard said, seething at what Till had done to their friend.

 

“Reesh, no.” Oli said, laying a hand on his shoulder. “You know that’s a bad idea.”

 

“No Oli! He needs to be brought down a peg or two! If you’re coming with me, it had better be to back me up. If not, stay here.” Richard said, storming out of the room before anyone could stop him. 

 

“This is going to be the ruin of a lot of things.” Paul said sadly and everyone caught what his meaning was.

 

**\---**

 

It was freezing outside and the rain was close to torrential, I slid down the wall of the venue and sat right in a puddle. I couldn’t bring myself to care, I sobbed until my eyes hurt and when I could cry no more I screamed myself hoarse. Left with no tears and no voice, I resorted to drawing my knees up to my chest, my arms wrapping around my legs, my head resting on my knees and rocking back and forth, trembling from a combination of the tidal wave of emotion I was feeling, sheer exhaustion and the cold wetness of my clothes seeping right through to my bones.

I have to admit I don’t know how long I was out there before I felt a towel being draped over my shoulders and someone picking me up. I would have fought whoever it was, content to stay out here where the rain could numb what I was feeling but that same rain had traitorously sapped my warmth and will to care.    
My legs wouldn’t function on their own so whichever band member it was that was helping me was forced to carry most, if not all of my weight. As we walked I looked up to see Oli who smiled softly at me and pulled me in a little closer so as to share his warmth with me. When we arrived back at Richard’s dressing room no one but Schneider was left. 

 

“Where is everyone?” 

 

“They all headed back to the hotel.” Schneider told me.

 

“Oh.” 

 

Oli helped me into the seat I had been in earlier that evening, “I’m calling a cab, we’ll head back to the hotel and get you showered and changed out of those clothes.” and with that he left the room.

 

“It’s not your fault.” Schneider said, “I’m sorry, Carter.”

 

It was late and the venue had shut off the heating system for the night and bit by bit, lights were going out. Oli returned then, with a fresh towel and an umbrella.

 

“Cab’s waiting outside, let’s go.” 

 

Schneider offered his hand to help me stand but I shook my head, I just wanted to be alone. I suppose it could have seemed ungrateful but Schneider understood. Oli took the old towel from me and handed me the fresh one. Then we started through the maze of backstage hallways to the front door which had been kept unlocked by the last member of staff left in the venue and as the four of us stepped outside he locked up, tipped his cap and went on his way. 

The cab was warm, the heater blasting out hot air at full pelt. I was sat in the middle between the other two men and they each scooted as close as they could to me despite restrictive seat belts. Oli must have given the driver the destination before it even got here because nothing was said to the man on the other side of the safety glass as he moved out into the mostly empty road. Everyone with any sense was already home safe, warm and dry.

I could sense that at least one of them wanted to say something but I don’t think they knew where to begin. The journey to the hotel took forever and even though the heater was on, the cold seeping into my bones left me shivering and my teeth chattering.

 

“What could have possessed you to sit out in the rain? You’ve probably given yourself hypothermia.” Schneider said softly.

 

I later learned that they all knew what had gone on in Till’s dressing room but at that point I think Schneider wanted to get me to talk about it, for my own sake. I couldn’t though, I was still in shock. So I just shook my head and mumbled that it didn’t matter.

Once we pulled up outside the hotel Schneider paid and we headed inside, the rain had finally stopped so I was thankful at least for that. They tried to stay with me once we got to my room but I shooed them away with promises that yes, I would be having a warm shower and getting into warm pyjamas. Yes, I would come see them tomorrow if I was feeling up to it.

No great desire to actually hospitalize myself, I made good on my promises to the two men at least in part. 

 

I showered.  
I put on clean, dry pyjamas.  
I cosied up under warm covers.  
But I didn’t leave that hotel room the next day. 

  
Too overwhelmed, was I, by what had happened, too saddened at the memories and burdened with the knowledge that I could not stay on tour with them, I had to go home. I knew that I could tell no one of what had happened to make me leave and I think somewhere subconsciously I knew that this would already be killing Till but I tried to ignore that thought, for the time being wanting only to concentrate on the hurt he had caused me. 


	4. Part IV

_ Brilliant sunshine shone over the tall spires of the magnificent church. People were filling the pews and spilling out into the hallways, it was no wonder so many people were here. After all, you were so very loved by so very many people. _

 

_ Till’s heart ached, none of this was right, he shouldn’t even be here but he couldn’t stop himself once he had heard. It was all so long ago but he had never learnt to let you go.  _

 

_ Some of the people he passed recognised him but most people did not. Those that did were surprised to see him there, they knew how it had all went between you and him, it surprised them greatly that he would be invited let alone that he would show up. Some were even skeptical if he was in possession of an invitation. Still, despite all the uncertainty no one stopped him as he made his way through the church.  _

 

_ In an effort to fit in Till had dressed for the occasion, he wore a well tailored grey suit with a crisp dark blue shirt, black Italian leather brogues and black leather gloves.  _

 

_ If anyone had asked him why he was there, he would not have been able to answer them because he was not entirely sure himself. All he knew was that he had to see you at least once more, even if it was to watch all chances of you ever being his completely destroyed. Even if it meant the slow torture of heartbreak, he had to see you. Just once more. One last time.  _

 

_ He made it through to the main hall of the church and though there were no pews left with any space to sit, Till found space to stand and think about the circumstances that had lead to this. Could it have gone any other way? Perhaps but there was no changing the past, no matter how much he dearly wished he could.  _

 

_ All the small things he did wrong and all the big mistakes that left him alone had plagued Till for years. For the longest time he couldn’t bare to think of you because all it brought was shame and sadness. He was ashamed of how carelessly he handled everything, how little he tried to fix it. That only ever left him feeling sad which lead to loneliness. It had been the driving force behind some of his best poetry and lyrics but that was of little recompense to him, he realised far too late just how much he needed you. All that he had left now was memories and though he tried to only hold on to the good times, he was all too often reminded of the tragedies that followed or preceded the good times. Always his doing, for your part you always forgave him. Until one day you simply couldn’t, that was when you walked away. Goodbyes too painful you had left a letter, one for each member of the band wishing them luck and rounding it off with love and regrets. Till knew he was those regrets and for years that cut him to the bone.  _

 

_ When he overheard Paul and Richard talk with Flake, Oli and Schneider about the wedding invitations they had been sent, he knew why he had not received one and when he heard them say that they would not go, so as not to cause Till any hurt he knew he had to see you to apologise even if it was too late, he had to do it. _

 

_ He suddenly found himself weaving his way through the crowd of people towards a door off to the side of the pulpit.  _

 

_ On entering he was faced with another door and he could hear voices, yours. It hadn’t changed a bit in all these years. There was no point turning back now, he raised his hand to knock on the door and all chatter behind the door was silenced. When the door opened Till saw a young girl, his immediate thoughts were of how she resembled Nele. Then he realised that this could very well be your child, it dawned on him what he was about to ask of you. What it could mean. _

 

_ “Privet!” the little girl smiled.  _

 

_ Russian, she spoke Russian. Till’s mouth was dry and he had to force back tears. “Privet.” _

 

_ The small gasp on the other side of the door told Till everything he wanted to hear. You recognised his voice.  _

 

_ “Uh, Mika, sweetheart. Let him in.”  _

 

_ “But he’s not supposed to see you before the wedding!” She giggled. _

 

_ “It’s okay, he’s allowed, just not the groom silly.” You said to the girl in a playful tone.  _

 

_ “Okay.” Mika said and swung the door open.  _

 

_ In the room there were three women and you, all of the women had stopped to watch as Till tentatively stepped inside the room.  _

 

_ “Can we be given some space?” You asked the other three and as they filed one by one out of the room you turned Mika. “Mika darling would you go and find Grandma? Sit with her for a bit. Don’t tell her about this though, it’s our secret. I’ll explain why later, promise.” _

 

_ Mika smiled up at you and nodded, skipping out of the room. _

 

_ “I can’t believe it.” You whispered.  _

 

_ Till looked at you as if you were the most beautiful thing in the world. His eyes closed and he took a deep breath, just pleased to finally be seeing you again. There you were in front of him and dressed in a brilliant shade of blue, not too unlike the bright blue of the sky outside. Where Till had gone for traditional suit, shirt and trousers, you had gone all out.   
 Suit jacket discarded and the top button of your waistcoat undone and fiddling with cuff links. Your tie pristine and black, it stood out beautifully against the stark white of the shirt that hugged your slender frame under the waistcoat. Your black suede shoes shining and your hair seemed to be styled not unlike Schneider’s often used to be. Manicured nails gleamed but Till caught sight of your right hand, a single nail painted bright red. Almost as if you had expected that none of the band would come and in their place had made subtle changes to your appearance so that, in spirit, you had them with you.  _

 

_ You looked exactly as you had all those years ago, the same sharp cheekbones and silky blonde hair. The dark green hues of your eyes were wide and warm.    _

 

_ “Es tut mir leid. I shouldn’t be here but I had to come, I was just going to watch from the back of the church but I-” He reached a hand out towards you but pulled it back quickly, reminding himself that you were not his to touch, you never had been. “You look radiant.” _

 

_ There was so much he wanted to say but there was only so long before it would be time to watch you walk down an aisle and he would lose you forever. _

 

_ “It’s like you’re a dream, if I reach out and touch you, you’ll disappear.” You said, still whispering. _

 

_ “Is she your child?” Till asked, fearing the answer. _

 

_ “Ja, adopted but still mine.” _

 

_ “I should have never let you walk away that night. I should have done more to fix what I had broken. Es tut mir leid.” _

 

_ You made no reply, but Till had begun already to let slip what he had spent years thinking. He would have to be quick, the Wedding March had begun to play. _

 

_ “I love you. I always did, I don’t think I am capable of stopping loving you. Mercy knows I tried to let you go, but I don’t want to. I don’t want to lose you again. Please don’t walk out there.” He took a careful step closer to you and kept going, “I know this isn’t the time or the place, I know I forfeited my right to say this long ago but I can’t bear to let you go. I should have held you close, I should have said a thousand ‘I love you’s. If I could turn back time, I would fix everything. I would do it right but I can’t so I’m here, now begging you. Don’t do this. Come with me, come home to me. Bring Mika, leave him a note. He surely will understand.” _

 

_ The Wedding March was still playing but being drowned out by a crowd increasing in volume, worrying about why you had not walked the aisle yet.  _

 

_ “Please.” Till begged, on his knees in front of you with his hands gripping yours and tears threatening to spill over for you both. _

  
_ “Till, es tut mir leid.” You said and let your hands fall by your waist. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this made me cry. The inspiration for this chapter came whilst listening to a song by Alan Scott, sung by Hadley Fraser, called Again. Some of the lyrics were paraphrased here and I totally recommend checking it out. 
> 
> This story will quit playing with your feels soon(ish), I promise!


	5. Part V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I know this has taken a while but I've been struggling to keep the gender neutral pro-nouns going without it getting too confusing which lead to a fair few re-writes. As a result of that and because having no assigned gender for the OC was causing some issues with backstory and some fluff/humour pieces I had planned, I've decided to give the OC a gender and a name.  
>  I made the OC a male because I was interested in writing some Till/Original Male Character stuff cause I don't see a lot of that and I don't get much chance to write for a male OC.
> 
> The gender neutral pro-nouns were great while it was just a one-shot and I may well use gender neutral pro-nouns in any one-shots to come but for this story I would like to introduce you to Carter.
> 
> The only other edits really are in part one were I flesh out when Carter came into the crew and how long he worked with them before their decision to go on hiatus in 2013 and in part four where some details have been added so we have an idea of what Carter looks like.
> 
> You'll get more backstory on Carter in upcoming chapters too so there is that to look forward to.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

When Till awoke the next day his first decision had been to take a shower but what he saw in the mirror made him freeze, he had noted the pain in his face and jaw when he first got up but dismissed it as simple after show aches, after all he remembered hitting himself with the microphone several times. His cheek was sporting a blossoming bruise, ugly in all it’s glory. His lip was split in three separate places, healing slowly, the skin stitching itself back together again. As he tilted his head towards the mirror he caught the glimpse of his knuckles, busted and bloodied. It was then he realised that this was not a result of on stage antics.  
 What in the name of hell had happened? How had he gone to bed in this state, Carter would never have allowed it, why had he not cleaned him up…

Then it started to come back to him, rushing in and running him down like a frieght train. Memories of the night before flooded his mind. So many things had gone wrong and he had went into self destruct but at some point Carter came back to him, he had said such awful things to him and let him run. How could he have done that to him? He would have to apologise, but how to make that right?   
Would it ever be possible?   
Was there any fixing that?

Till made out faint sounds of knocking on his door but he couldn’t stand up to answer it. When had he gone down on his knees? None of this made sense, why had he taken his anger out on him? What had possessed him? He couldn’t breath. 

 

“Help. Help me.” He thought. 

 

His sore jaw and bruised face still made no sense, his scraped knuckles. God no. Surely not. 

 

Till was pulling at his hair, what had he done? Why couldn’t he remember anything after that? 

 

“If there is a God in the sky please, say I didn’t hit him. Please say I didn’t.” He thought.

 

No one answered his prayers. His fears fueled his panic and his panic made his stomach churn. 

 

He was going to be sick, he had hit Carter. He had ruined everything. 

 

**\---**

 

There was a delicate knock on the door, Schneider was cautious of being too loud in case he was still asleep. When he answered the door obviously showered and dressed Schneider let his worry subside a little. 

 

“Hey Schneider, come on in.” Carter said, stepping aside to give Schneider the room to get in the door. 

 

“Morning.” He said, noticing the laptop, two phones and various pads of paper containing scribbled down notes. “My, you’ve been busy!” 

 

“Yeah, a PA’s work is never done. Wanted to make sure everything was in better order for tonight. Plus some of the smaller news channels got hold of the fact that the band left in separate cars so I’ve been working to dispel any rumours that might pop up.” He said, sitting back on the bed in front of the laptop. “What can I do for you?”

 

“We missed you at breakfast. Have you even eaten yet?”

 

“I’ve been kinda busy.” 

 

“You’re avoiding Till. Don’t worry, he wasn’t at breakfast either. I had hoped that you two had missed breakfast because you were busy sorting out what happened last night.”

 

Carter had gone back to typing away on his laptop and trying to make it look as if he hadn’t heard him. 

 

“You just gonna pretend it never happened?”

 

“What do you want me to do Schneider?” 

 

“Talk about it. Preferably with Till but if that’s not something you’re comfortable with, at least tell me!”

 

“Schneider, you already know exactly what happened! I don’t plan on sticking around long enough to feel comfortable talking to Till about it!”

 

He was confused, “Wait, you’re going to leave?”

 

“Yeah Schneider, I can’t stay. I’m sorry.”

 

Schneider sat by Carter's side, “You should talk about it or it will eat at you.”

 

Tears sprung to Carter’s eyes at the memory of the night before. Closing his laptop for the time being he decided to give in, after clearing his throat and blinking away the tears Carter began to explain.

 

“Well I was going to just nip into Till’s dressing room to grab my nail kit. Richard’s nails are in desperate need of a manicure. You’d think he’d take better care of them but apparently not. Till was already sitting in there, sulking I thought, so I thought I’d try and get him to cheer up and maybe join us. He wasn’t himself, I could see it in his eyes. He started yelling at me, spouting paranoia about us laughing at him through there.” Carter said, needing to take a deep breath before he could continue. “I tried so hard to pacify him, kept my voice level and my words reassuring but I got scared, he talked about me not taking his side and then he nearly fell over, I went to help but… that’s when he got quite vitriolic. The last thing he said to me was that he wished he had never met me. I couldn’t stand it anymore.”

 

“That’s when you ran right past Richard’s dressing room and out into the rain.” 

 

“Yeah.”

 

“We looked all over the place for you. Couldn’t figure out where the hell you’d run off to. Richard was furious, knew Till must have upset you. Let’s just say, that didn’t end well.”

 

“Schneider, if you don’t mind I think I’d like to take a nap. I don’t want to have to think for a little while.”

 

“Okay.” He said, already moving everything off the bed and handing him back his pyjamas.

 

“It’s okay, I’ll just sleep in my t-shirt. Can’t be bothered changing.”

 

“Auf Wiedersehen, Schneider.” They said as he walked towards the door.

 

“Auf Wiedersehen, Carter.” Schneider replied.

  
  


**\---**

 

The five of them sat in the hotel bar. The place was empty, cleaners having already been and gone but bar staff not yet on shift. This meant it was the best place to meet and sit down to talk.

 

“This is quite a mess, isn’t it?” Paul said

 

“Hmm, it certainly is. Of course he knew what Till could be like but I suppose this was quite an eye opener for him.” Flake replied.

 

“Still, not one of us would have seen this coming.” Paul said, “Till storming off and having a tantrum is normal, every member of crew knows to stay out his way even more so if they were the ones responsible for whatever fuck up put him in the foul mood but he’s never gone off like that at anyone except maybe us. To take that out on Carter, it’s not something anyone would have seen coming. He means the world to Till, he can’t have meant it.”

 

Paul’s words were not meant to excuse Till’s behaviour, instead they were all desperately searching for reason behind the outburst at his PA. He also seemed to be trying to absolve himself and the other four of the sin of allowing it to happen, of not seeing it coming. 

 

“He’s leaving.” Schneider said. 

 

The group had descended into silence but this served to make the silence heavy with worry, it was a few moments before anyone spoke up again.

 

“Leaving, as in resigning?” Oli asked.

 

“Ja, he was talking about it when I went to see him earlier. Looked like he already had some replacements lined up.” 

 

“We have to stop him! He can’t leave.” Oli argued.

 

“I don’t think we should. If Carter wants to leave, and who could blame him after last night’s fiasco, then we have to let him.” Richard spoke up, offering up pearls of wisdom.

 

“Besides, there’s only one way he would stay and it’s not likely to happen fast enough.” Paul added, “I hate that we might lose him but we can’t force him to stay if he doesn’t feel comfortable here anymore.”

 

“I don’t think he would appreciate it if we sent Till knocking on his door to apologise anyway. It’s all still a little too raw for him.” Schneider told them.

 

“So we just let him go? We don’t fight him on it, just let him walk away?” Oli asked, defeated.

 

“If need be then, sadly, yes.” Schneider sighed.

 

Flake, who had said very little throughout the majority of the conversation, then stood up and spoke. “I will see you all tonight, if not before. I am going to speak to Till.”

 

He was gone before anyone could protest.

 

**\---**

 

Flake knocked and waited patiently for about thirty seconds at Till’s room door. After those thirty seconds however, he used the security key card he had acquired from the front desk as he passed before coming up here. “I’m coming in, you had better be awake.” He called to the darkened room.  
 He found Till in the bathroom, sitting against the wall. He looked like he was in a little pain and Flake had to wonder how long he had been sat like that.

 

“Till.” He said, it came out more sternly than it was supposed to.

 

When Till met Flake’s eyes, they were the eyes of a lost child. Full of fear that it was clear he either remembered all of the night before or only scraps and Flake wasn’t sure which would torture Till more. 

 

“Can you stand?” He said, deliberately making it sound softer than it needed to be, so as to make up for the harshness of the last time he spoke.

 

“Ja.” Till said but made no effort to move.

 

“I’ve no doubt you’d be more comfortable sitting on a chair or on the bed.” Flake added.

 

Till stood up and moved towards the bed but opted instead to just sit on the carpeted floor and lean against the bed.

 

“How are you feeling today.” Flake asked, taking a seat opposite him on the floor.

 

“My jaw hurts.” Till said, rubbing his jaw as he spoke.

 

“It would do, Richard has a hell of a right hook when he’s annoyed.”

 

“And this?” Till asked, showing his bruised and bloodied knuckles to Flake.

 

“It was always a fight that Richard was going to lose.” Flake stated.

 

“So, I hit Richard? Not Carter?” Till said, his eyes suddenly seeming to brighten at the knowledge.

 

“Wha-? No, what made you think you’d hit Carter?” 

 

“I couldn’t remember everything properly and when I saw my knuckles I couldn’t understand why he would have let me go to sleep like that. I couldn’t see any other reason for why.” Till said, he looked at his knuckles again and bit his lip, “Is Richard ok?”

 

“Ja, bit bruised and probably suffering a setback in his ego but otherwise he is ok. He landed a few good hits so he isn’t complaining and we didn’t have to stop you from killing each other so all’s well that ends well really.” Flake shrugged.

 

“Except I’ve ruined a friendship.” 

 

“Nein, Richard will forgive you. As for Carter, talk to him.”

 

“Und say what? I’m sorry I was an ass?”

 

“It’s a start.”

 

The pair went silent then, each lost in their respective thoughts. Till was appreciative in that moment, as he had been in times before, that Flake was not a man to waste words and thus he felt no need to fill the silence with inane rambles. However, Till was aware that Flake was waiting on him to say how he planned to fix this, Till knew well enough that that was what the other man expected of him. Other things were going on in Till’s head at the moment though, thoughts of a dream half remembered and worries of a future without the person he had come to depend on for a great number of things. 

 

“Flake.” Till started.

 

“Ja?”

 

“… I need your advice.” Till began chewing his lip, unsure of how to continue. “Last night I had a dream, I can’t figure out what it means.”

 

“I’m not sure what help I could be but I’m listening.”

 

Till began to recount what he could remember of the dream. “It was years from now but we looked exactly the same as we do now, there was a church and bells. Everyone that recognised me, they wondered what I could be doing there, knew I wouldn’t have been invited but no one stopped me. No one even tried-”

 

Flake sat with his back against the wall and listened, paying every attention to what his friend was saying. Occasionally he would nod to let Till know he was keeping up and understanding. It took Flake a while but he was able to discern not just where the dream was going but also what his friend’s subconscious was saying. Flake’s brow furrowed as Till described the feel of the summer sun on his back through the suit or the brilliant blue of Carter’s suit , for someone who only remembered this dream in part he certainly seemed to have a lot of details. Flake wondered how much of the time, leaning against that tilled wall was spent thinking over and memorising this dream. 

 

“- The child spoke Russian, it was Carter’s child and I asked him to leave with me, bring the girl and leave but he… ‘ _ es tut mir leid’  _ that’s what he said and he left. Left me alone.”

 

Till looked once more like the lost child, fearful but this time sorrowful too. It was clear to Flake that Till was in agony over this all but had no idea how to start mending the broken ties, no idea how to make this better. 

 

“Till, you know what you have to do and I think you know what that dream means, you don’t need me to help you decipher any of it. It was very clear. You care deeply for Carter and you’re worried this is the end of that, you have to make haste. Fix this.” Flake stood up and stretched. Though it pained him, he had to tell Till what was underway, “He plans to leave. Your dream will become reality soon enough unless you work this out with him. Don’t take too long considering your words, wordsmith.”

 

“Tell him I’m sorry, please, tell him I want to make this better. Stall him, I need time.”

 

“We have agreed to stay out of this decision, if you do not act in time then we leave him to his chosen course of action.” Flake said as he made for the door, “We will see you at sound check. Tonight should be a smoother show, Schneider tells me Carter has been hard at work to make sure of that.”

 

Till stood to look around the room, “I will speak to him. I promise.”

 

“See that you do, none of us want to see him go.”

 

“Danke Flake.” 

 

Flake bowed his head and left the room. 

 

**\---**

 

After Flake left the room, Till stripped himself of his pyjamas and started the shower. When it was hot enough he stepped under the spray and began to wash himself of the dried blood, sweat and paint from the night before.   
 Once he was clean of all that he turned the shower off and wrapped a towel around his waist. In the mirror that covered the wall the sink was on he could see now the bruise properly, it wasn’t as bad as it had looked when he first saw it. Running a hand over his jawline he felt enough stubble to warrant a shave, but first he dried himself and picked out fresh clothes, throwing the clothes from the night before in the bin as opposed to the pop up laundry basket Carter had bought him as a joke. 

Last night would be washed away and left behind in every way possible, Till’s mind was made up on that. 

Now dry he went back to the mirror to shave. Mirrors always fascinated Till, people could see so much in a mirror and people often had such differing opinions on what they saw. Seeing his bare arms and chest in the mirror he noticed again the number of scars he had gained over his years. His arms, even after leaving the professional swimming behind, still bulked out with muscle. His chest was not quite what it had once been but it still looked better than most his age, after all he worked hard to keep himself in shape; lord knows working in Rammstein required it.    
 When he saw his face he paused, he had never seen what others could, especially not these days. Many would call him handsome but he didn’t see it. Perhaps when he was young that was a more accurate description of his features but not these days, at least not in Till’s mind. 

The shaving foam feels cool on his jaw which is still sore even now and he begins the task of shaving. He succeeds in only cutting himself once. Washing away the remnants of the foam and dabbing his face dry, Till takes a moment to consider Flake’s words.

 

“ _ Don’t take too long considering your words, wordsmith. _ ”

 

It hadn’t been meant as a taunt but instead was meant to serve as a clear warning that care and haste were what was needed in this instance.

Till dressed himself and took a moment to consider how best to approach this, he could think about what he ought to say or he could just in the moment say the right words. He decided that it might be best to just let the words come to him on the spot, if he practiced it would only go wrong when the time came to give his speech. He wanted it to be heartfelt, it had to be genuine and somehow practicing it felt wrong.

With his resolve on the matter handled, he left the room and made his way to Carter’s. 

It was only a floor down but by the time he got to the door his confidence was shaken and he hesitated. His hand was raised ready to knock but it just hung there, defying his order to move. Then he heard shuffling and muted conversation, whether he was talking to himself or on the phone Till was not sure but it served to destroy what little resolve he had in his plan. He walked back towards the lift and decided it would be best perhaps to give him some time. Not too much, not enough to find a replacement, but enough that perhaps the first thing he might do would not be to slam the door in Till’s face. 

After the show tonight, straight after. He would make his way to him where he always stood, side stage, to watch the show. He would ask to talk to him and he would fix this. He would make this better.

 

**\---**

 

That night I didn’t go to the show, I had fixed everything I could from my room in the hotel and anything else would just have to be dealt with by whoever replaced me. My suitcase was half packed, I would wear the jeans and shirt I was in for the foreseeable. Tomorrow I would begin to pack away incidentals that didn’t need to be kept around. Tomorrow was also the beginning of interviews for a suitable replacement. I could let the agency handle it but I wanted to be sure I was leaving the band in good hands and it was rather important to me that the new PA knew everything, especially the things I had not. 

I had five suitable candidates. The first interview would be at eight in the morning, better they get used to early rises now. The next interview wasn’t until six pm that night. The other three would be interviewed the day after. 

I heard Paul come along the hallway just after midnight and listened carefully to make sure he made it to his room safely. I was surprised when I heard him knock on my door but I went to open it nevertheless. 

 

Paul stood in the doorway with a crooked grin, “Good evening!”

 

“Paul, it’s past midnight. How about we try good morning? Or even better, good night.”

 

“I wanted to come see you were okay.” 

 

“I’m okay. You want to come in? I guess I’m not getting out of this visit. As long as you’re back in your room by two, I hear old people really need their beauty sleep.” I joked.

 

Paul fixed me with a look that radiated sass, “Very funny. You’re no spring chicken kiddo.”

 

“And yet, still you call me kiddo.”

 

“Cause I’ve some respect.” He said, his chin held high and a pretend snobby look on his face.

 

I laughed and let him into the room where he immediately took a seat on the bed. 

 

“How was the show?” I asked.

 

“Not quite right without you there to wish us luck as we go on and cheer us on from the side or congratulate us as we come off stage.”

 

“You know what I mean Paul.”

 

“It was better, not one mistake. You must have put the fear of god into them!”

 

“Good.”

 

I felt awkward, we both knew there was an elephant in the room but neither of us wanted to be the first to address it, it seemed. That is. until Paul cleared his throat.

 

“Schneider says you’re leaving?”

 

“I think so, yes.” I sighed, I didn’t really want to leave if I could avoid it but I didn’t know how to. “Does Till know?”

 

“Flake went to see him earlier today.” Paul said, the grin he had worn on coming into the room had fallen from his face. “This must be killing him. Flake was saying to us that Till said he’s sorry. Desperately sorry. I don’t think he even knows how to go about making it better.”

 

“This should be coming from him Paul, not you.” I reply somewhat bitterly.

 

“I don’t think he has the words to convey what he feels. Trust me if he knew how to make it better, he would. A thousand times he would! I know it.” Paul pleads.

 

“I don’t know if he can make this better, a part of me thinks he mustn’t want to or he would be working harder on finding the words!”

 

“I… I’m sorry, really I am.” Paul said and got up to leave. “I’ll let you get some sleep.”

 

I nodded and stood to walk him to the door, before I opened it he turned and gave me a hug. “We’ll all miss you, Carter.”

 

As I opened the door Paul gasped and I looked up. There infront of my door, with his hand raised as if to knock, stood Till.

 

**\---**

 

When he wasn’t at the show that night Till knew he had to go after the show. Carter had never missed a show, this had to be fixed. The gig finished at eleven and Till had tried his very best not to be waylaid from his course but on leaving the venue there was fans and reporters. So Till stuck around to sign things, talk to fans and even pose for pictures. It was over forty minutes before he could get to a car and even then it took too long in the car to get back to the hotel. 

He’d had all day to practice his words and now, coming out of the lift at a little past the hour, he was as ready as he would ever be.

When the door opened to reveal Paul, Till was a little unsure of what to say.

 

“Guten Abent, Till.” Paul said, smiled and walked down the hall towards his room.

 

Till replied with a nod before turning his attention back to Carter. “ …Hallo.”

 

“Hi.” He replied, nervously.

 

“Can we talk?” Till asked.

 

“Uh, yeah. Uhm, come on in.”

 

“Danke.” Till said, he wasn’t sure where to begin. “I wanted to come see you.”

 

Till watched Carter take a deep breath before gesturing towards the bed Paul had been sat on not moments before.

 

“I owe you an apology.” Till started as he sat on the bed.

 

“I think you owe me more than that.” Carter said, sitting opposite him.

 

“I know. I know and if you allow me, I will apologise and more. I was wrong to take my anger out on you and when I awoke this morning with a bruised jaw and bloodied knuckles I was terrified that I had done much worse. I’ve not been that scared in a very long time.” Till paused to run a hand through his hair, “I’m not good at long and rambling apologies and I can’t promise I won’t behave like that again but I will try not to let my behaviour get so abhorrent. I can’t take back what was said but I can swear to you, I didn’t mean it.”

 

**\---**

 

I shook as I exhaled, Till’s words weren’t exactly Shakespeare but that wasn’t what I wanted. I had wanted an apology and that is exactly what Till had given me, in the way only Till could. I smiled, so happy to hear him sound like the man I had grown to love. 

 

“C’mon, you look like you could use a drink. The bar should still be serving.” I said and leapt off the bed, “Thank you Till, apology accepted.”

 

“Carter, one other thing.” Till said, “Please don’t go.”

 

“Till, I’m not going anywhere. Not now. I’m not saying I forgive you completely but I certainly don’t want to leave now I know you didn’t mean what you said.”

 

“Of course I didn’t mean it.” Till said, standing and holding his arms open experimentally, offering a hug which I gladly accepted. “Now, you said something about a drink?” 

 

I grinned and mentally made a note to call and cancel the interviews. The first one was too early to cancel but I would just apologise and tell them that a replacement was no longer necessary.


	6. AUTHORS NOTE

Okay so I promise I haven't abandoned this story entirely. It's just that I've had a heck of a lot going on lately plus I kinda lost my muse with this but I'm keeping all my notes cause I wanna be able to write this again someday even if no one reads it by the time I get back around to it.

Only thing I wanna mention though is that when this comes back it will likely come back heavily edited, better thought out and hopefully I'll have a plotline set up for the story to actually follow. 

So until I can sit down and write for this again, I'm putting it on hiatus. While this story is on hiatus I'll probably work on and publish other stuff but I will keep periodically sitting down with it and seeing if my muse has come back. 

I'm really sorry I know there were a few of you who really enjoyed this story line and I honestly hate disappointing you like this but I felt you at least deserved to know this much.   
I hope to see you all back here when I can get more of this written but if not then that's okay. 

Thank you so much for being with me on this journey up until now.   
Thank you so much for the Kudos, the bookmarks and the comments.   
It all means the world.  
xx


End file.
